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person was aboard. She could put her mind at rest.
    “May I see the first-class list, please?” she asked.
    “Of course,” he replied, handing it over. “Are you looking for someone?”
    “No, George. Nobody in particular.”
    It was a lie. Genevieve was searching for reassurance. She ran a finger down the list, confident that she would be able to relieve her mind of its vestigial anxiety. But there was no relief at all. One name suddenly jumped off the page and made her start. She felt as if she had just been punched hard in the stomach.

THREE
    A s befitted members of the royal family, the Duke and Duchess of Fife, and their children, had been given the cabins that could best lay claim to be considered staterooms. They were large, plush, and superbly furnished. Other passengers had to unpack their own luggage but the royal couple was traveling with a small retinue of servants to take care of any menial tasks. While the ship made its way along the Thames estuary, Fife remained in his cabin with his wife. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man of almost sixty years, with a military bearing. His high, domed forehead and clear-cut features gave him an air of distinction but the full mustache, now peppered with gray, hinted at a more raffish side to his character. Accounted something of a rake in younger days, Fife had been redeemed by marriage and dedicated himself to being a family man and to running his vast estates in Scotland.
    “How do you feel now, my dear?” he asked solicitously.
    “I’m fine, Alex,” replied his wife, reclining in a chair. “A little tired, perhaps, but there was so much to do before we could set off.”
    “This will be the first Christmas we’ve spent abroad. Do you mind that?”
    “Not in the least. I’m rather looking forward to it. If we stay in England, we always seem to end up eating and drinking far too much. Father has such a remarkable appetite. The last time we spent Christmas Day at Sandringham, he insisted on having twelve courses.”
    “It was something of a challenge,” Fife agreed with a smile. “It will be interesting to see what sort of fare we get in Egypt. Some of their dishes are very exotic.”
    “I’m going there for the warm weather rather than the food.”
    “And for some sightseeing, Louise. Egypt is positively filled with ancient relics.” He gave a quiet chuckle. “Just like your family.”
    “Alex!”
    “I was only joking, my dear.”
    It was not a joke that she appreciated because it had such a strong element of truth in it. From the time she was born, Princess Louise Victoria Alexandra Dagmar had been surrounded by people who were substantially older than her. Queen Victoria, her grandmother, who had dominated the family in every way, had survived until her eighties and her spirit lived on. Other people in her circle were also long-lived and Princess Louise wondered if it was because she was so accustomed to being with older people that she had married a man who was almost twenty years her senior. It did not matter. She had never regretted her choice. Fife had been a devoted husband.
    “How long will it take us to get to Port Said?” she asked.
    “Eleven days, if all goes well.”
    She was worried. “Is there any reason why it shouldn’t?”
    “No, my dear,” said Fife with a consoling hand on her shoulder. “The
Marmora
is an excellent vessel and Captain Langbourne is an experienced sailor. The only thing that might slow us down is bad weather.”
    “That’s what I’m afraid of, Alex. I don’t want the children to be seasick.”
    “They’re young, healthy, and full of life. Have no qualms about them.”
    “I was once horribly seasick when I was Maud’s age.”
    Though she was the eldest of the King’s three daughters, Princess Louise had always been rather shy and self-effacing. She was a slim, pale woman in dark attire. Marriage had helped her to blossom a little but she was still nervous and hesitant at times. The prospect of